


A Cunning Plan

by Govi



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-26
Updated: 2010-02-26
Packaged: 2017-10-07 13:48:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/65730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Govi/pseuds/Govi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Dominic O'Brien is Sean's character in <i>The Fifteen Streets<?I></i></p>
    </blockquote>





	A Cunning Plan

**Author's Note:**

> Dominic O'Brien is Sean's character in _The Fifteen Streets&lt;?I&gt;_

Ever since he was kicked out of school, Dominic had been a dockworker and had thought he knew all about the sea. He had been on small boats several times, for fun and for the occasional job, but never for a long time and never on a big ship like this. The men who had brought him on board had dropped him like a sack of potatoes and then left with just a warning to not try to come back. Only a few hours later the boat had sailed out.

They had told him he was going to America, that Bracken had paid his fare and he struggled to understand why. He knew everyone felt he had caused the accident; that Bracken's daughter and little Katie had died because of him. Still Bracken had saved Dominic's life, for John would have surely killed him if he had stayed in the Fifteen Streets. It was all beyond his comprehension.

The weather had been rough and he had been seasick from the very beginning. It was almost more than his body – bruised and beaten as it was- could take. He was more nauseous than he'd ever been in his entire life, even after the most drunken night and at first he was afraid he would die, until a few hours later he changed his mind and was afraid he wouldn't.

The stench in the small space he shared with nine sailors was almost unbearable; the straw mattresses on the bunks, damp, and the one thin blanket covering him, filthy. Instead of getting better he felt worse, could not even bring up the will to fight and he spend his days lying on the bunk, rocking on the never ending movement of the waves, staring at the wall. He drank some water, because he had this foul taste in his mouth, but the thought of eating the greasy stew that was offered made him puke again. The third day came and he even stopped drinking, no longer interested in life.

Someone must have noticed he was really dangerously ill and he woke up in something looking like a large cabin, twice as large as where he had been in those first days. No stench here and a nice bed, made up with clean sheets and a thick woollen blanket. He realized he was in the sickbay, when he saw a collection of medical equipment on a nearby shelf. Closing his eyes he fell asleep again.

He startled awake and blinked against the light that shone through a porthole. He looked into the smiling face of a stranger. "Good morning," the man said.

He tried to speak, but his tongue felt like leather in his mouth and a raspy sound was all that came out. The man smiled again and held a mug to Dominic's mouth. He sipped, tasted something delicious, and then drank more eagerly until the mug was empty. "Good morning," he said, regarding the other man cautiously.

"I am Viggo Mortensen, the ship's doctor."

He was young, around the same age as Dominic, but that was the only thing they had in common. His clothes were rich, even though he wore no jacket but the shirt was pristine and frilled with lace.

"Dominic O'Brien."

"You were dehydrated Dominic, in a very serious way, and you had a fever. You're young and strong though, so you'll be up and about in no time."

"How long have I been here?"

"Almost two days."

*Two days?* Two days, and he couldn't remember a thing. He looked down and noticed for the first time that he was wearing a long sleeved shirt. The doctor, following his gaze, smiled at him.

"You and your clothes were quite dirty. Your clothes are being cleaned, so I gave you one of my shirts to wear for the time being. I hope you don't mind."

Dominic shook his head, still amazed about what had happened.

"I'd like to examine you now that you are awake. May I?"

"Yeah, sure."

He lay still underneath steady hands that touched the bruises and cuts on his face. He followed the path of those hands going down to his chest, flinching when they touched a particularly painful spot on his pectorals.

"That still hurts, does it? Let me open your shirt, so I can have a closer look."

Dominic had been to a doctor only once in his life. His kind of people didn't go to a doctor easily. He had been six or seven and had a bad case of measles. He had run a high fever and his Mam had been convinced he would die. The doctor had been drunk, his hands had been trembling and clumsy and Dominic still thought he had survived despite his 'treatment', not because of it.

This doctor was totally different; he smelled nice and clean and his touch was soft, but firm. Still, he felt a bit uneasy, as the hand lingered on his bared chest a little too long, and it made him wonder.

"Hmm, I suspect one of your ribs is bruised, but you'll live. I'll put some salve on that later; it will make the bruise disappear quickly. If you stay here for the day and night, you can go back to your bunk tomorrow."

If he had known, he would have cried out at every touch, prolonging his stay here. This was heaven, compared to the hell in which he had spent his first days on board.

"How long before we arrive in America?"

"Three weeks, maybe a few days shorter if we're lucky, and you don't have to call me doctor, just call me Viggo."

*Three bloody weeks!*

"I'll get you some broth and bread now, you need to eat something."

Left alone, Dominic tried to think of a way to persuade Viggo to let him stay here, but he came up blank. Soon enough, Viggo was back carrying a tray holding a steaming bowl and a plate with bread. The broth smelled delicious and Dominic sat up against the propped up pillows so he could eat. It tasted even better than it smelled and he ate with appetite.

As soon as he had laid down his spoon, restraining himself from licking the bowl he just blurted it out, "Can't I stay here?"

"Stay here in the sickbay? I don't think the captain would allow it. This is for seriously ill people only. I can understand you don't want to go back there; I know it can be bad, but I cannot let you stay here. I am sorry Dominic."

He seemed to be genuinely sorry, but that didn't help him. Dominic lay back down again while Viggo applied salve to the bruised rib. Again, he seemed to take more time then needed and Dominic watched him carefully, while he deliberately spread his legs a little.

Viggo looked up at him immediately, a faint blush on his face, and then averted his eyes quickly. *Gotcha mate!*

Viggo left soon after that, saying he had 'other duties' to attend to, which Dominic seriously doubted. He was glad to be alone though, glad to be able to think and consider his options.

He never had meant Katie and Christine to drown and if only they'd listened to him when he told them to get back... Now he was on his way to a strange country on his own, and he would never see any of them again. Not that he would miss his Da, or Saint John, his brother, but he choked back a sob when he thought of his Mam, and the familiar images of his home town

There was no use in thinking about that now though. He was on his own and would be from now on. His survival instincts kicked in and he was streetwise enough to step over his objections. So this Viggo was a poofter and wanted to bugger him probably. Dominic had seen men like him before and had mocked them, together with his friends. Any man that would have dared to approach him for something like that on the Streets would have ended up with a bloody nose, but he was not on the Streets now. Even if he went back to sleep on that bloody bunk he would end up in America with just the few coins tied in a hanky. Maybe if he let Viggo bugger him, he'd not only let him stay here, make up some excuse for the captain, but he might give Dominic some money too, voluntarily or not. He was clearly well off.

He liked girls, that is to say he liked fucking them, because they were a bloody nuisance most of the time until they got married, and only then useful for cooking, cleaning and having babies. Except his Mam maybe. He had fucked quite a few girls, had never had any problem finding a willing bed partner, until that Christine started playing hard to get.

Buggery would be pretty much the same as a fucking he supposed and probably over in a minute or two, as it never took him much longer to finish. Having a cock up his arse might be painful, but Viggo was a doctor and would be careful not to really hurt him. So why not give it a chance? His final conclusion was simple; he would be fine if he just endured some moments of agony and if a woman could do that, why not him?

When Viggo returned Dominic was ready for him, gave him a coy smile. He knew Viggo could probably guess what he was up to, but he was still a young man and had his needs. He had brought him a plate of fish and some more bread and Dominic ate every bite. Viggo didn't really look at him, instead busied himself with shoving pots and pills from one place to another.

Dominic watched Viggo from under his lashes and decided he wasn't bad looking at all and things could have been worse. When Viggo stepped closer to take away the tray Dominic laid a proprietary hand on his leg.

"You still want me to go?"

Viggo swallowed audibly, "It's not that I…," and then he broke off when Dominic's hand started to trail up. "Look, I have been thinking about it and I really can't keep you here. It will get me into trouble. But I was thinking… you could maybe stay in my cabin. I mean there's only one bed and…" Again he broke off, and Dominic tightened his grip on a trembling thigh.

"Won't that get you into trouble with the Captain?"

"He doesn't really need to know, does he?"

"No," Dominic readily agreed. *Unless you try to throw me out after having your way with me.*

*

That evening, Viggo came to fetch him, wrapped a blanket around him and brought him to his cabin. Dominic staggered a little for the first few steps, but overall he felt quite good. Viggo's cabin was even better than the sickbay had been. There was some sturdy furniture, a few pictures here and there and the bed big enough for the two of them. Dominic picked up a large picture of a bonnie lass.

"Your wife?" he asked, smirking.

"My sister," Viggo replied curtly, taking the picture out of Dominic's hands. "I have to go and have dinner now, but I'll bring you food when I get back."

Somehow, Dominic had been steeling himself for the assault, expecting Viggo to demand immediate payment, as he would have if he'd been in Viggo's place. For now he felt relieved, even though he realized it would still happen, probably when Viggo came back stuffed and after good food and wine..

He looked around the cabin carefully. Apart from the pictures there weren't any private possessions. There was a big wooden trunk in one corner that was used as a table and probably held valuable stuff. It was locked and Dominic could see the wisdom of that; Viggo knew nothing of him and he might be a thief, which he was not.

He was tired and crawled into the bed, picking out the better of the two pillows. Viggo stayed away a long time and after a while Dominic dozed off. He woke up when Viggo opened the door. It was starting to get dark and he watched Viggo lighting the big oil lamp on the trunk. Viggo handed him a plate with food and a jug with red wine of some sort.

Dominic had no appetite, could suddenly feel Viggo's eyes upon him, but he gulped gratefully from the mug of wine Viggo had poured for him. The wine was heady and strong and he wasn't used to it, but he held his mug up for another one when Viggo lifted the jug. He tried not to look while Viggo undressed, tried to not stare at the formidable size of his cock that jumped out of his breeches like an aggressive animal from a cage. The wine dulled everything, though and by the time Viggo had climbed next to him in the bed, he felt a tiny bit better.

That afternoon he had seen himself more or less in control of the situation, but now it was painfully clear he was not. He allowed Viggo to take the empty mug from his hand and put it on the floor, then let him unbutton his shirt and pull it off until they lay naked together.

Dominic could have done without the lamp, would have preferred a short, filthy fuck in the dark, but instead Viggo took all the time in the world, folding back the covers so he could look at Dominic. His fingers trailed over his cheek, then down to his neck and collarbone until they rested on a nipple, slowly stroking it to life.

"You are so beautiful," Viggo whispered, and Dominic shivered as the hand trailed down, carding sharp nails through his pubic hair. Nothing of it was anything like he had expected and his usual cockiness had left him completely. Viggo leaned in and Dominic turned his head to the side, afraid Viggo wanted to kiss him, but instead he licked a wet path from neck to nipple, and then suckled on the puckered flesh while his hand pumped Dominic's cock. Unable to suppress a desperate moan, Dominic arched his back, surprised by his body's betrayal.

"Turn around," Viggo urged, and he rolled over, crying out sharply when his bruised ribs hit the mattress. He buried his face into the pillow and shivered when he felt Viggo's tongue on his back. This wasn't what he had thought to agree to, but it was wicked and good, and he was harder than he'd ever been before.

He felt confused, knew he should feel disgust, especially when a finger slicked with fuck knew what, worked itself within him, but instead he spread his legs wider, biting his own arm when the finger stroked something inside him that spread wild fire through his veins.

He hated Viggo, hated what he did to him, and swore at him between clenched teeth, words muffled by the thick feather pillow. He would rather have slept between the snoring sailors on the damp mattress, festering with lice and flees. Anything was better than to face what he was reduced to now; a sobbing, needy shadow of himself, begging to be used, he told himself, just before he came and then was gone.


End file.
